Posted: 8/24/04
A fine old threshing bee time
By David Heiller
Argus News Editor
The threshing phone call came in the nick of time, because I was getting hungry, and threshing bees are really about food anyway.
Oh sure, Alan Wunnecka and company threshed up a lot of oats on the ridge above Gopher Road in Crooked Creek Township on August 18.
Once Alan got the feed chain on the threshing machine repaired, he kept a steady stream of wagons moving past the old machine that he had bought from Jim Yohe of Caledonia.
The long canvas belt hummed smoothly around the pulley on the side of the Farmall tractor parked behind the thresher, and men took turns feeding the machine with oat bundles.
Another crew took a wagon to the field and loaded it with bundles that had been stacked seven to a shock a couple weeks ago.
ìItís amazing how dry it stays,î Joel Winnes, 22, remarked.
ìItís running real heavy,î Alan added as he watched Mike Richards fork bundles on the conveyor belt. ìItís tripping about every four bundles.î
That translates in non-farmer language to about a bushel of oats to every eight bundles, which is a good yield, Alan said.
The threshing machine blew out straw, which settled in big piles under the snout of the steel dinosaur. A healthy west wind blew the chaff away. Alan said he would bring a baler up later to bale up the straw. Waste not want not when it comes to farming in general, and threshing in particular.
Eldor Wunnecka, Alanís father, watched the activity. I asked him if he thought Alan was crazy to do this work, bringing up a point that Alan had told me on that earlier visit to this heavenly spot.
ìNo,î Eldor replied with a laugh. He recalled the days that Milton and Rudy Pieper ìthrashedî through the valley. The results were better than a combine when it comes to clean oats. ìAs long as you donít have a whole lot of acres,î Eldor added.
Alan seemed to take exception to that point, although he knew better to disagree with his father. ìYou can get a lot of oats through with all the help we got,î Alan said.
Itís almost as fast as a combine with enough guys,î Joel Winnes said in support of his friend. The Winnes boys have a way of pulling farm facts out of their young hats.
The crews in the good old days could do 1,000 bushels on a good day, Eldor recalled.
And didnít they stack the oats different then? Howard Schultz said. Howard had ridden with me on this fine adventure, and his old farm instincts had kicked in as soon as he had a pitchfork in his hands.
Yes, thatís right, Eldor said, with the heads pointed in and the butts out. They would start at 9:30 and go till noon, he added, take about an hour for dinner, then go all afternoon again.
The best part is the meal, Alan said, which showed that I wasnít the only one thinking such threshing bee thoughts.
What a meal
We found Alan true to his word about 10 minutes later when we pulled into the Winnes farm at the end of Nelson Valley Road. Itís about as pretty a farm as you will find, with barns and dogs and chickens and Winnes kids running all around, and a garden as big as a football field.
Jan Winnes and her three daughters had a meal ready, but not until hands were washed in the laundry sink in the basement. Then we folded those hands, and Joel Winnes asked for a blessing that included a request at the end that we not get hit by lightning.
It was indeed a good old-fashioned meal: mashed potatoes, corn, cole slaw, meatballs and gravy, rolls, milk.
Is the milk fresh, I asked.
Right from the cows, not pasteurized, said Ben Winnes, the youngest of the seven Winnes children at age 12. And the potatoes are from the garden? Yes, Jan said. They keep them in the old cistern in 50 pound sacks.
And the cabbage? Yes, of course, from the garden.
I suppose the meat came from their own cow? By then my questions were getting old, so Iíll cut to the chase: Every bit of food that they served, even the butter, was home-made. And that made this threshing bee meal even more special.
Getting neighbors together like this is pretty special too, Jan said. ìPeople donít do it anymore,î she said.
ìYouíve got apple pie?î Alan asked. He was tired of all our sentimental talk.
ìNo,î Jan said.
ìIt took me three days of threshing last year to get apple pie,î Alan complained with a twinkle in his eye.
ìYouíve got to have apples to have apple pie,î Jan said, defending herself as only a mother of seven can do.
Her daughter Rachel, 21, served me a piece of raisin cream pie, and I didnít notice Alan complaining as he ate his piece. I know I didnít.
We lingered a bit at the picnic table and hay bales, long enough for John Winnes, 16, to break out the old five string and have a go at Cripple Creek. Then it was time to go. The sky was clouding up, and it looked like Joelís prayer about lightning might come in handy.
Howard and I drove out of the enchanted valley toward County Road 249. We came upon a snake on the side of the road. We got out and gave it a close look. It was a young rattlesnake. I took a picture of it, and we admired it a bit. An old farmer might not admire a rattlesnake. I know Eldor Wunnecka wasnít impressed. But it made our day.
ìA threshing wouldnít be a threshing without a rattlesnake,î Howard said.
My thoughts exactly, I said as we headed back to town, much the better for a little work, a lot of food, and best of all, a connection with some very fine people indeed.
Caledonia Argus
314 West Lincoln St.
P.O. Box 227
Caledonia, MN 55921-0227
507/724-3475
E-Mail: editor.argus@ecm-inc.com